


Take Two

by Misty_Reeyus



Series: Revival Verse [1]
Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Family, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-True Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her fall on the Pelune, Milla wakes up.</p><p>Milla Maxwell stares back at her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Two

**Author's Note:**

> writing this fic was a lot of blood and sweat and tears but godDAMN if i'm not absolutely over the moon for having finally finished this son of a bitch that i've been wanting to do for a good, what, almost two years now? damn. so thanks to [talesofbb](http://talesofbb.tumblr.com/) for finally giving me the push i needed to get 'er done.
> 
>  **warning:** there's some slight hints of jude/prime!milla/leia in the latter scenes because i'm ot3 trash but they're implied and not prominent i promise.
> 
> also this fic comes with a fucking gorgeous piece of art by [mischievousart on tumblr](http://mischievousart.tumblr.com/) which you will find in the endnotes after the fic. if you like what you see there PLEASE go check out the other art they've done it's all A+++++.

Milla wakes up drowning.

Or, well, she's not _actually_ drowning, she quickly realizes, once she takes her first gulp for air and the initial haze of panic starts to clear. She can't be—she isn't wet and her lungs aren't burning, and rather than a fluid nothingness, there's instead a soft but stable pressure against her back, keeping her in a sitting position. Sure, her whole body tingles vaguely with the phantom sensation of floating underwater, and she instinctively sputters for air as her chest heaves and her vision blurs with colors and shapes that she can't quite make out, but despite all that, she feels oddly _safe_.

Milla's eyes soon adjust, but even as the image materializes before her, she has to blink several times before she can affirm that she's not hallucinating. Whatever was pressing against her back—as it turns out, a floppy-eared, globe-riding creature—slides out to join the multitude of strange faces that crowd her, and Milla can't shake the feeling that they all look vaguely familiar. The pieces don't all click together until Milla sees Muzét—the _prime_ Muzét—and then finds herself face to face with... herself.

"You!" Milla gasps, pointing at the lookalike, recognizing her from that brief moment when they locked eyes in the abyss before everything went dark. "Y-you're... the prime..."

Milla trails off, unable to say it aloud. Milla Maxwell merely gives a slight nod, murmuring, "It appears to have worked. Your memories seem to be intact as well."

Something squeezes her other hand, and when Milla looks down, it takes her a moment to register that she's _holding hands_ with her own prime self. Wisps of memory come flooding back to her now, recollections from that period when she tenuously flickered in and out of consciousness. Something like water, rushing past her, trying to wash her away. Voices ringing out in the dark void, keeping her tethered down, seeming to call her in the opposite direction. A strong warmth enveloping her wrist and tugging her up, up, up, until light formed stars behind pressed eyelids and her body abruptly emerged from the deep...

Milla yanks her hand out of the other's grasp, clutching it protectively to her chest, rubbing it furiously against her other hand as if to wipe it clean of whatever traces Milla Maxwell might have left. Frantic, Milla pats herself down, fully expecting to end up just like that fractured Rollo any moment now, fully expecting for her own body to stutter and fade and disappear, like someone took an eraser to an existence and simply wiped it all away.

Milla mentally counts the seconds as they tick by, but even after what must be several minutes, her body remains perfectly intact. She remembers it took a while before the fractured Rollo started disappearing, but... it didn't take _this_ long, did it? Despite herself, treacherous tendrils of hope cling to her heart, and Milla swallows hard before hazarding a glance towards her prime self.

Milla Maxwell is watching her with an expression that Milla would never have been able to imagine being on her own face. The eyes are steelier, unwavering and _strong_ in a way Milla is sure she has never personally felt, and her face remains largely impassive. The only sign that the prime may feel at all apprehensive is the fact that her gaze is locked onto Milla curiously, as if she is attempting to gauge for herself whether or not her fractured counterpart will vanish.

Another few minutes pass in uneventful silence. Milla _knows_ it didn't take this long with Rollo, but this...

This is impossible.

"What the hell did you _do_?" Milla asks without thinking, her mouth beyond her control, her mind reeling too fast for her to make any sense of what's happening.

Milla Maxwell answers promptly, "I pulled you out of the River of Souls."

...Alright, she answered the question, but that does absolutely _nothing_ to clear up the jumbled mess that used to be Milla's brain, so Milla tries desperately to think of a better one to ask. In the first place, she doesn't understand how she's even here right now, because when she let go of Ludger's hand, she was so ready for it to be the last thing she ever did, she was _so ready_ to give herself up so that Ludger could save Elle—

Oh, spirits, _Elle_!

"Elle is alive and well," Milla Maxwell says, and it takes Milla a moment to realize she must have just blurted that thought out loud. "You don't need to worry about her."

Milla shoots her prime counterpart a cautious glance, but she likes to think she knows her own face, and Milla Maxwell doesn't _look_ like she's lying. Plus, from what she'd gathered from Ludger's friends, Milla Maxwell had never been the type to lie for the sake of sparing someone's feelings.

Milla chooses to believe her, and changes the subject.

"We... can't both be here," Milla intones, slowly. "Origin's Trial—"

"Is over," Milla Maxwell finishes, crossing her arms. "We reached the Land of Canaan, and all the other fractured dimensions have been destroyed. Seeing as your existence continues, I would wager that you are no longer bound by Origin's rules."

That doesn't explain how Milla came back at all, because she _surely_ died; so many things still make no sense, and most of Milla doesn't even care to try and understand anymore. Now that she's looking properly, Milla realizes that the vaguely familiar floating figures who have been surrounding her this whole time are the Four Great Spirits (of _course_ this Milla still has them), and with the way they're all watching her, she suddenly very much feels like an animal on display in one of those strange Elympion things they called a zoo.

She suddenly very much _hates_ it.

"Milla?" Milla Maxwell pipes up, as if urging her to speak her mind again. But Milla _really_ isn't in the mood for conversation anymore.

"Don't talk to me," Milla hisses, glaring her prime self straight in the eyes. "Don't say anything. Just leave me the hell _alone_."

She launches to her feet and breaks into a run, brushing past her prime self and her prime sister and the Four that she apparently could have had but never did. It's not like there's anywhere to actually run _to_ —with nothing but grass and trees and spirits as far as the eye can see, it's clear as day that Milla's in the spirit realm, which means she can't leave. She can't go back to Ludger and the others in the human realm, and her home dimension is already _long_ gone, and she doesn't know how nor _want_ to return to the void that she had thought would be her eternal grave.

So Milla sits herself down beneath a tree, far, far away from the gathered great spirits, and solemnly watches them. The group quickly disperses, but thankfully none of them come Milla's direction, so she takes what little solace she can get and buries her head in her hands. She curses Origin and Maxwell, curses this entire prime dimension, curses everyone and everything that comes to mind because for all she cares all of it can _go to hell_.

She thought it was over. Milla really thought that it was over when she let go of Ludger's hand, that her meaningless existence would finally be destroyed, just like it _should_ have been destroyed along with her dimension. But no, it wasn't over then, and apparently it's _still_ not over now. Maybe it never will be, and she'll be doomed to keep on living without anything to live for.

That, Milla thinks, may be the absolute worst fate of all.

* * *

Milla passes the time as best she can beneath her chosen tree, though it's not a particularly enjoyable experience when she has almost nothing to do besides feel sorry for herself. She tries to distract herself with whatever she can, but counting the leaves on the tree loses its charm around 529, sun gazing gets uncomfortably hot and hard on the eyes after a while, watching the lesser spirits frolic and laugh in the distance just makes something bitter and cold sink into her stomach—and in the end, she goes back to counting the leaves and manages to get to a whopping 863 before giving up again.

Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

If she could, Milla would just sleep. It always used to be the best way to find solace when life became too much, ever since she was a little girl. She could simply fall unconscious and be blissfully unaware of everything, from her sister's violent outbursts, to the destruction of her own dimension, to the constant sense of unbelonging and personal frustration in the prime one.

Now she can't even have that. Spirits apparently don't need to sleep, and although Milla is sure that they _can_ , whenever she even so much as tries, her consciousness chooses instead to torture her with wakefulness. Without fatigue, she can't force it, and that's the worst part of all of this—her entire existence is literally sitting miserably by herself underneath a tree, while everyone else she ever sees flits around happily in this "heaven" they call a home. Without sleep to help keep her on a schedule, Milla can't even tell how much time has passed since she came here: it feels like it's been at least months, but maybe it's only been a couple weeks.

Hell, maybe it's only been a couple _days_ , for all she knows. Milla swears she can actually feel her sanity slipping away.

The lesser spirits don't know what to make of her so they avoid her, and it's not like Milla wants to be around them either. Neither of the sisters even _bother_ with her: Milla Maxwell spends most of her time presumably overseeing the River of Souls, while Muzét mostly just plays games with the lesser spirits and, during the rare moments that Milla Maxwell takes a break, sticks to her sister like glue. The Four are more curious than all the rest, but that doesn't mean they're any more willing to approach her: Sylph huffs and quickly turns away whenever Milla's near, Efreet sometimes tosses her acknowledging nods that she doesn't return, Undine occasionally waves, and Gnome always looks at her like he wants to say something but never does work up the courage to say it.

That's all just fine by Milla. She doubts she'd have anything to talk with them about anyway.

Still, she's always sort of expected that when the moment came that one of them approached her—because face it, eventually it'd be inevitable—it would be Gnome. So it's a bit of a surprise when _Muzét_ is the one who first floats down beside Milla under the tree, smiling pleasantly. She doesn't ask if she can sit before she does, and Milla doesn't bother trying to move away from her—prime Muzét, infamous for being stubbornly insistent, would only follow and hound Milla until she gave up. Might as well get it over with.

"Alright," Milla sighs, "what do you want?"

A small smile drift across Muzét's face, and Milla blinks at how different it looks from what she's come to expect. With Ludger and the others, Muzét's smile was always playful but guarded, and with Milla Maxwell, she's only ever been eager to please—but now Muzét's eyes are soft in a way Milla doesn't think she's _ever_ seen before. On this Muzét or her own.

"Some of the other spirits are playing soccer," Muzét says, "and we need one more to even out the teams."

If Milla cared more than she actually does, she might have asked how the hell they manage to play soccer when most of them don't even have feet in their anatomy. What Milla says instead is, "No thanks."

Muzét's smile remains strangely calm and patient. "Milla, I know it can be hard trying to fit in around here at first."

"Oh, I'm sure." Milla scoffs. "Must have been soooooo hard for the mighty Maxwell's older sister to get along with everyone."

"Actually, it really was."

Milla wasn't expecting that to sound as tender as it does, and that gives her pause. Back when they'd been traveling with Ludger and the others, she'd always assumed the prime Muzét to be a frivolous prankster and all-around kind of a jerk. But Muzét's still wearing that incredibly unfamiliarly _motherly_ expression, and suddenly, Milla isn't sure what to think about anything anymore.

She is not Muzét's Milla, and this Muzét is not her Muzét. So why would this Muzét _bother_?

"I know it's hard getting used to it here at first," Muzét continues. "You don't feel like you belong, so you linger on the sidelines and refuse to talk to anyone. You don't know how to live because it feels like after everything that's happened, you have nothing left to live for." That's... right, though. Muzét is _right_ , everything she's saying is absolutely _true_ —and terror suddenly strikes through Milla's heart because somehow, the other is hitting wayyyyy too close for comfort. "But Milla gave me a chance, and when I talked to her, everything started falling into place again. We were able to become such wonderful sisters. So, I'm sure if we just talked it out, we could all be—"

That's enough.

"I don't need to talk about _anything_ with you people!" Milla spits out, unable to stand it anymore. "Look, I'm sure your _precious_ Milla has much more important things to deal with than me, so why don't you just go back to fawning over her like a good big sister, huh?"

Muzét physically recoils at the outburst, and Milla can't help but find satisfaction in that—but then the expression on her face shifts into something sterner, even a hint angry. "Hey!" Muzét snaps, and shifts suddenly, her hand stretching out towards Milla—

 _—her hand stretching out towards Milla, artes spewing from her fingers and slamming into Milla's chest, toppling her down and drawing blood and burning bitter brands into her flesh until her entire world is nothing but pain pain pain_ _**pain** _ _—_

Milla flinches instinctively, curling in on herself and covering her face with her hands, fully expecting to feel the sting of an attack any moment now. It's only after a minute or so, with Milla breathing hard against her palms but not once receiving a blow, that she realizes there won't be any blow at all. Cautious, still trembling, Milla slowly forces herself to look up from her hands and meet Muzét's gaze.

She expected to see at least some anger in the other's face, but that's not how Muzét looks at all. No, Muzét looks like she's had her whole world come crashing own around her—her mouth is agape and there are tears in the corners of her eyes and that is _not fair_ , that's how _Milla_ feels, _Milla_ is the one who wants to cry. Yet Muzét's face is full of nothing but sorrow and pity, and that only makes Milla's gut churn and her heart fray like weathered paper in her chest.

"Stop," Milla breathes, trying all her damnedest not to dissolve into sobs right there; she _never_ lets herself cry in front of other people. "Just stop. You are _not_ my sister, and you do _not_ know me. So stop acting like you do."

Her eyes burning and her chest heaving, Milla abandons her tree and runs straight for another one nearby, only looking back once she's arrived beneath it. Muzét stares after her for a while but ultimately doesn't follow, simply turning her back and floating away while Milla slumps in relief against the tree trunk. Tears still threaten to spill, so she stares up at the leaves and tries to distract herself by counting: one, two, three...

She only gets to sixty-two before she gives up and starts crying.

* * *

Muzét doesn't talk to Milla after that, though not for lack of trying. Milla keeps catching her, every time Muzét hazards an apologetic glance her direction, but so long as Milla keeps up her defense of glaring irritably for a split second and then turning away, Muzét never pursues it further.

Unfortunately, not everyone is so easy to deter, and when Milla Maxwell herself comes to intervene, she doesn't even bother to announce her presence before bluntly stating her business.

"Muzét has been depressed all week. It's beginning to get annoying for all the rest of us."

Milla, still settled beneath her tree, continues picking at the grass. "If you came to tell me to apologize, don't bother. I won't."

"I'm not expecting you to. However, I would like to talk."

Milla scoffs, rolling her eyes before finally looking up at the figure standing over her. "What is there to talk about?"

"You." Milla Maxwell gives her a pointed stare. "I want to know more about you. Right now, there is a lot that I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand," Milla mutters, the words spilling from her lips before she can stop them. Honestly, she's needed to get that out for a _long_ time. "But you know what _I_ don't understand? Why I'm even _here_."

Milla Maxwell furrows her brow. "Elaborate."

It sounds an awful lot like an order, and that alone has Milla wanting to tell the other to take a hike... but Milla's been wondering about this ever since she got revived. She figures she deserves an answer.

"I _know_ that fractured things go poof if the prime one takes its rightful place again." Milla lets the ripped strands of grass fall from her grasp, watches them float away on the breeze. "So why the _hell_ have I not gone poof?"

The other shrugs. "I don't really know myself. All the fractured dimensions were destroyed just before I returned to the spirit realm. Frankly, by the laws of Origin's Trial, you couldn't have ended up in the prime dimension's River of Souls in the first place." Milla Maxwell bends down, taking a seat beside Milla on the grass. "And yet, you did. I was quite surprised when I came across a soul in the water that resonated so perfectly with my own."

"Well then, why did you pull me out?" Out of everything, this is what Milla just can't understand: why her own prime self would _bother_. "I never asked for this. You could have just left me alone—hell, you _should_ have." Milla learned long ago from Muzét— _her_ Muzét, before the resentment and cruelty took root—that Maxwell's duty to the world was to cleanse each and every soul of all its memories, not _pull any of those souls out._ "But instead, you went to all the trouble of yanking me from the River, keeping my memories intact, making me come here? Why?"

"Impulse." Milla Maxwell apparently doesn't even need to ponder her answer.

Milla sputters. "Impulse?!"

"Yes. It simply didn't feel right for me to leave you as things were. And I knew that pulling you out had a distinct possibly of working, since the Four had pulled my own soul out before."

 _Before_? As in, this isn't the first time these people have broken the very laws of nature just to bring someone back to life?

Hah. And just when Milla thought the prime dimension's utter disregard for near-universal cosmic rules couldn't get any more obnoxious.

"Ultimately, this was a result of my own selfishness and rash decision," Milla Maxwell continues. "For that, I apologize."

"As if an apology could just fix everything," Milla barks out, laughing bitterly. "Must be nice, never _actually_ being wrong. Always doing whatever you want and having everything work out just _perfectly_."

Milla Maxwell frowns. "I won't begin to claim that everything I've done is right—"

"Oh, won't you?" Milla hisses. Maybe it's a bit much, but Milla Maxwell got her started and dammit, now that she's going, Milla is _not_ about to stop. "Because if I recall, being prime just excuses you from everything, doesn't it? You're always in the right, you're perfect, your whole world is so _fucking_ perfect that it's the _only one_ that gets to live in peace at the cost of sacrificing _countless_ others."

Milla Maxwell stares back at her, unfazed, her gaze patient as she nods like she's actually listening. It just makes Milla madder.

"From the very start, it was always _you_. You _failed_ the mission that I fulfilled and yet everything worked out _better_ for you. You're still the Lord of Spirits, and you still have the Four, and you still have a sister who loves you, and on top of that you have human friends who positively _adore_ you, but all _I_ get—"

The rest gets cut off as Milla unexpectedly heaves, her throat constricting and lodging the words down deep. Her eyes rapidly brim with frustration, and before she can stop herself, she blinks, sending it all rushing down her cheeks in rivulets. Milla immediately whirls away, desperately avoiding the other's gaze as she curses herself for falling this far. She doesn't cry in front of other people, she _never_ cries in front of other people, she can't _let herself_ cry in front of other people and she _especially_ can't let herself cry let in front of _her_... and yet, Milla can't make it stop.

Eventually, she gives up trying.

"...All I get is a life I never asked for," Milla finally finishes through soft sobs. Her voice is humiliatingly _weak_ ; the anger has leaked out of her and now cold, empty sorrow is all that's left. "I never got to choose my fate for myself. Not with my sister, or with my dimension's destruction, or with my death, o-or even with _this_ , with my _resurrection_..."

The tears are overflowing now, and Milla buries her wet face in her hands, surrendering to the helpless hiccups that burst from her throat and send her voice into tremors. "I... I was never even supposed to exist. By everyone's terms, I'm technically not even _real_. I was gone, you were back where you belonged, and everything was finally as it should have been for you. So _why_ would you bring me here?"

For once, Milla Maxwell actually doesn't answer immediately, and Milla continues sniffling embarrassingly through the silence. She doesn't know whether the lack of response is a good or bad sign, but she still doesn't dare look at her counterpart to find out. It turns out, she doesn't have to—arms abruptly curl around Milla's middle, firm and unyielding, tugging her close, and through the muffled shock, realization forms.

Milla Maxwell is _hugging_ her.

Milla gapes. "W-what're you...?"

"Humans feel better when you cuddle them," Milla Maxwell murmurs, almost to herself. "And you are far more human than I ever was."

"The hell?" Milla gasps, more bewildered than anything, and pushes weakly at the other's chest. "L-let me go."

Milla Maxwell actually pulls back as requested, and _that_ gives Milla pause—she honestly wasn't expecting her to.

"I think I understand you better now," Milla Maxwell says. "And I have a confession to make, if you wouldn't mind hearing it."

Milla just stares, uncomprehending, wiping at her eyes. But Milla Maxwell's face betrays nothing but patience and earnestness, and before she can stop herself, Milla mumbles, "Whatever."

Good enough, apparently. "When you were traveling with Ludger's group, I saw everything. I don't understand how, no more than I understand how you ended up in the River of Souls, but I saw everything you did as if it were through my own two eyes."

"...Everything?" Milla repeats, cautiously. "What do you mean, everything?"

Milla Maxwell closes her eyes and visibly furrows her brow, as if mentally searching for something to say. Finally, she murmurs, almost solemnly, "Just before you let go of Ludger's hand, you told him the secret ingredient to your soup." Her eyes open to reveal a pointed gaze. "Porange juice."

Milla instantly freezes up, her mouth suddenly going dry as a desert, her blood halting in her veins. It's _true_ ; in what she had thought were her last moments, Milla had told Ludger the secret ingredient—because inventing that soup had only ever been for Elle, and if Milla wouldn't be able to make it for her anymore, she wanted to be sure that _somebody_ would. But only one person could have possibly known that.

"Did... did Ludger _tell you_?"

Milla Maxwell shakes her head. "No. Even if not physically, I was right there when you said it. I was with you the entire time you were in the prime dimension."

Milla opens her mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out. Her mind draws a complete blank.

"After seeing all of that," Milla Maxwell continues, "once I returned to my dimension, I promised myself that I wouldn't forget you. So when I came across you in the river, it was my chance to make good on that." She shrugs, as if it was just that simple. "I pulled you out because I felt that you deserved better than all you had been given. It was nothing more than my own selfish wish, and I won't claim that it was right, but I would do it again regardless."

She's lying. She has to be lying—except Milla _knows_ what her own face looks like when it's sincere and she _knows_ that Milla Maxwell doesn't lie, so... maybe she's just insane. That would fit. Stupidly persistent, and illogical, and _insane_.

"You're crazy," Milla gasps finally. "You're... you're fucking _crazy_." But even as she says it, she can see the truth in the other's eyes. Even though she doesn't want to, she _believes_ Milla Maxwell.

She believes Milla Maxwell truly wanted to save her.

Milla's tears suddenly start flowing again. Funny, she hadn't realized they'd stopped.

Milla Maxwell inches slowly towards her, arms outstretched, clearly aiming to embrace her again—and this time, Milla doesn't have it in her to protest. An arm wraps tight around her middle, a hand reaches up to start stroking along her head, and Milla can't even bring herself to dislike it as her own fists become clenched in the back of the other's clothes and her face gets buried in the other's neck. Tears and runny snot must be seeping wet and hot into Milla Maxwell's skin, but if she minds, she doesn't show it, continuing to run her fingers through Milla's hair in a way that sends pleasurable shivers rolling down her spine.

Milla clutches onto her counterpart with everything she has, too far gone to care about the circumstances, too desperate to feel anything other than an overwhelming _need_ to drown in all of this softness and warmth. She sobs and sobs and sobs until she has no tears left, and even then, it takes her ages before she finally can bring herself to pull away. Wiping shyly at her eyes, she stares at the other her, at the kindness and maturity and _understanding_ that Milla can't help but see written all over her face.

Milla thinks she's starting to understand, now, why Jude and the others had _loved_ Milla Maxwell so much. She can't even muster the will to hate her for it.

"...Don't think this changes anything." Milla finally murmurs, but the excuse is her flimsiest yet. "I still don't have to like it here."

"Of course not." Milla Maxwell smiles and reaches over to squeeze her hand. "But for your own sake, shouldn't you at least try?"

* * *

The next time Milla sees Muzét, she's pushing a humongous table towards her.

It's almost comical, really: a floating woman unsteadily trying to sometimes carry, sometimes skid a table, the top of which is so packed with stuff that it near overflows. By the time Muzét has managed to get close enough to where Milla's sitting under the tree, she actually _shoves_ the table so hard that a blur of something comes flying off, hitting the ground right in front of Milla with a thump.

A frying pan, Milla recognizes, and stares down at it curiously before glancing back up. Muzét gives her that same apologetic look again—and this time, Milla doesn't glare in defense, doesn't bother trying to drive her away. Whatever this woman wants to say, she might as well say it already.

"I heard you like cooking!" Muzét blurts suddenly, running her hand through her hair. She looks haggard, nervous, _desperate_ even, and Milla remembers suddenly that Milla Maxwell did mention Muzét had been depressed all week. Milla hadn't really understood how bad it was until just now. "So I went down to the human realm and got some stuff I thought you might be able to use."

 _Some stuff_? Milla thinks incredulously, glancing over the vast expanse of materials. She sees pots and pans, a cutting board and knives, various fruits and vegetables, two sacks of rice, bottles of what look to be sauces and spices, a large plastic box that looks to be full of some type of red meat. _More like an entire veritable_ _ **kitchen**_ _._

Milla picks up the frying pan and stares at it in contemplation. "...This is a nice pan," she says, unable to think of anything better.

"There are a lot more where that came from!" Muzét chimes. "A lot more where all of this came from, actually. I wasn't too sure what to look for, so I ended up getting almost everything the stores had."

Milla takes some time to process that, and silence reigns for a while before Muzét breaks it again.

"I'm... sorry for what I said," Muzét utters slowly, and Milla blinks in surprise before whirling to look back up at her. The last thing she had expected was to _receive_ an apology. "When we were traveling with Ludger, I never really tried to reach out to you, so I wanted to make up for what I didn't do then, but I came on too strong and I only upset you."

Muzét's practically ranting, the closed-off and composed mask that Milla had gotten so used to now completely in shambles. "You're right. We're not sisters, and I shouldn't have presumed to understand how you feel. It's just that a year ago, Milla and I weren't anything like sisters, either, but then she reached out to me when I needed it, so I thought maybe the same would work for you—" Muzét bites her lip, shakes her head, seems to search for something to say before continuing—"a-and I didn't think it through and I should have thought more about your feelings and I'm really really _really_ sorry."

Muzét finishes with a deep intake of breath and then goes quieter than Milla's ever seen her, fidgeting slightly under Milla's gaze. It takes some time before Milla finds her own voice again.

"You... you were just trying to help," Milla finally manages to get out, flushing as she admits it. "It didn't _work_ , but you tried. So I... I'm sorry too, for getting so upset."

Muzét beams.

"Forgive and forget?" she offers, her arms stretching out tentatively towards Milla, inching nearer but not fully closing the distance. She's asking permission, Milla realizes, and she purses her lip before glancing back at the table of kitchen supplies, then at the pan in her hands.

"...Did you steal all this?" Milla asks quickly, trying to change the subject.

Muzét pouts, arms still outstretched and grabby. "How rude. I bought them, I'll have you know."

Milla furrows her brow. "With stolen _money_?"

"W-well, I mean..." Muzét twirls a strand of turquoise hair around her finger in telltale affirmation. "I'm sure Gaius won't mind that I took a teeeensy little dip into the royal funds."

...She stole from the king to get these?

Well, in that case, Milla will _happily_ accept.

Finally giving in to the small smile creeping over her lips, Milla puts down the pan and nods once, granting permission. The flash of Muzét's ear-splitting grin is the last thing she sees before arms suddenly clamp tight around her neck, Muzét rubbing her own cheek up against Milla's and practically purring like a cat. It's weird, and Muzét is way more touchy-feely than she expected, and Milla doesn't know where to put her own hands so ultimately she doesn't put them anywhere, but she doesn't once protest or try to get away.

(This Muzét hugs even better than her Muzét used to.)

That day, with so many tools and ingredients at her disposal, Milla cooks. It's been ages since she last was able to find comfort in the smell of spices mixed with smoke, and now, as she chops vegetables and stirs rice and feels all the tension that she hadn't realized was there just _drop_ out of her, she realizes how much she _needed_ this.

Sleep may have been her greatest solace, but cooking was always a close second.

It's really only by overindulgence and habit that Milla ends up cooking as much as she does; back with Ludger and the others, she occasionally cooked for the party, and before that, back in her own dimension, she'd often cooked more than she could actually eat in the desperate hopes that one of the villagers would eat with her. But as she notices the humongous table (now cleared of its mess of kitchen supplies) filling up behind her, the Four and Muzét and Milla Maxwell all taking seats around it while gazing at her expectantly, she figures there's no point in letting all this perfectly good beef rice go untouched.

Despite how none of them even need to eat, they're all _enamored_ with human food, Milla quickly finds. Her own sister hated it, her Muzét _freaked out_ whenever she so much as caught a whiff of the stuff—but this Muzét visibly savors every bite, then bickers heatedly with the Four and with Milla Maxwell over the final helpings ("Efreet, that's your second bowl—and Milla, you've already had _four_!"). And Milla can't help it—she gets caught up in all the friendly energy, and she lets herself get so comfortable that she doesn't even think twice before turning to Muzét and asking something that's been on her mind for a while now.

"Hey, what did you mean when you said that you and Milla weren't sisters a year ago?"

Like flipping a switch, Muzét's cheery face suddenly falls, and nervous fidgeting comes back with a vengeance. Her eyes dart around so fast she looks like she might just float off any second now, and Milla's heart suddenly drops with guilt. She hadn't realized it was a sensitive topic, but even so, she shouldn't have brought it up in front of the others. Maybe she just shouldn't have brought it up at all.

"Muzét," Milla Maxwell suddenly pipes up from across the table, sending her sister a consoling look. "You weren't the same person then. You know I forgave you."

Milla doesn't know what Milla Maxwell is talking about, but apparently, it's enough to get Muzét to perk up. With a shy nod and smile, Muzét sets down her bowl, turns to Milla with what has to be the most honest look Milla has ever seen cross her face, and talks about it.

It's clearly difficult for Muzét to open up about herself (in retrospect, it must have taken a _lot_ out of her just to approach Milla under the tree that very first time), but she tries anyway—and that's how Milla finally hears the full story of the first journey, the one from before Ludger ever even came into the picture. Muzét talks about how she deceived the party, how she _killed_ Milla Maxwell and tried to kill all her human friends, how she did so on the orders of the _true_ Maxwell. The others have to pitch in to fill in all the new blanks—Milla Maxwell talks about how she was never _actually_ the Lord of Spirits taken human form, the Four talk about how they had lied to her on the real Maxwell's orders. They all talk about pulling Milla Maxwell out of the River of Souls, and getting back her memories, and fighting tooth and nail through countless enemies, until Muzét was eventually taken into the family and Milla Maxwell _became_ the Lord of Spirits for real.

It's all so complicated and so _new_ , all these things that Milla hadn't once suspected and nobody had ever bothered to tell her before now. Milla can barely get a grasp of it all before they end up shifting into another discussion, this one about how the journey with Ludger ended after Milla herself left the stage. They talk about how they made it to the Land of Canaan and completed Origin's Trial, how Ludger sacrificed his own existence for Elle to live on—and Milla looks down at her own hands as she remembers why she let go of Ludger in the first place.

She _did_ tell him that she expected him to protect Elle with his life. At least she knows now that he came through.

By the time Milla has heard everything they think they can tell her, it feels like lifetimes have passed her by, and the beef rice has gone so cold that Efreet has to heat the bowls back up in his large hands. Milla sits there, frozen in place, mind still reeling with shock—everything they've told her probably won't entirely sink in for _weeks_.

But still, they didn't dance around her, to spare either her or their own feelings. They readily admitted their mistakes to her, and above all, they unflinchingly told her the _truth_. That's not something Milla's used to.

She thinks she appreciates it.

"Muzét used to hate my cooking," Milla blurts out before she can stop herself, the words hanging in the air over them once they're out. "M- _my_ Muzét, I mean. She hated the way it made the house smell and thought it was useless when I could just eat all the villagers' offerings." Milla is suddenly aware of everyone's gazes on her, and she fidgets under them, but if they could all tell her about their own pasts and mistakes and personal insecurities for hours on end, she could at least tell them about this. "But I kept cooking because I wanted the villagers to like it." She wanted them to like _her_ , not just as Maxwell, but as a person. "None of them ever tried it, though."

Silence falls again, and Milla glances between all of them with held breath—until finally, Gnome smiles at her and does a little jump-spin with his globe.

"Well, _we_ think your cooking is super yummy!" he says, and takes another bite from his now freshly heated beef bowl as if to prove it. "And we'd love to eat it again..."

"Gnome, don't push it," Undine hisses chidingly, giving Gnome rap on the forehead.

"I-I mean," Milla pipes up, her cheeks flushing slightly from Gnome's compliment, "Muzét _did_ bring up enough ingredients to practically feed an army. It'd be a shame to let that go to waste."

Their eager smiles, Milla quickly finds, are contagious.

* * *

As it turns out, now that the two Millas are actually regularly interacting with each other, there's an entirely new issue.

They keep getting mixed up.

It's confusing enough that they have the exact same face, but when one considers their distinctively different outfits, as well as the strand of green hair that's only possessed by the prime, they're at least physically distinguishable. Having the same name, though, makes matters so much worse. Calls of "Could you pass the salt, Milla?" during their meals around the table have two hands going for the shaker. Cries of their shared name coming from the distance get both of them rapidly turning their heads every time. It's instinct, neither of them can help it, and it's not so big a deal the first time, or the second, or even the fifth—but at some point, it eventually has to get frustrating.

That point finally comes the day that Milla, in response hearing Muzét's cheery call of "Miiiiillaaaaaaa!" approaching from behind her, whirls around and automatically responds, "Yeah?"

It's only once she's actually looking at Muzét—who suddenly halts in her floating and begins awkwardly playing with a strand of her hair—that Milla realizes she made the mistake again.

"Oh! I, uhhh..." Muzét points over Milla's shoulder, and she turns to see Milla Maxwell just a short distance away, having apparently been coming this direction. "I meant her."

Milla Maxwell smiles slightly as she comes up on Milla's left side, shrugging helplessly at her counterpart. Muzét puts her chin in her hands and whines, "You know, we should really come up with some way to tell you two apart when we call for one of you. This is getting incredibly confusing."

The Four all come trailing in from behind Muzét right then, having evidently been looking for Milla Maxwell too—and Gnome, having apparently heard the tail end of it, starts bouncing on his globe excitedly. "Oh I know!" he proclaims, and quickly zips over to Milla, gesturing one of his floppy ears in her direction. "We can call you 'Mimi'! Doesn't that sound like a nice name?"

He seems so genuinely excited at the idea, his little round tail even wagging like it always does whenever he's pleased, and that alone makes Milla hesitate to voice how she doesn't quite share the sentiment. As annoying as it was getting mixed up all the time, she'd never considered that she might have to take on a new name, and somehow, the thought unnerves her.

"Gnome," Milla Maxwell voices, suddenly stern, her lips pulled into a frown. "She has just as much right to the name 'Milla' as I do. You cannot expect her to simply give it up."

"...Oh." Gnome's excitement comes to a visible halt, his whole body abruptly drooping over. "Sorry, Milla. I didn't mean it like that. I just always thought Mimi would be such a _cute_ name."

"N-no, it's not that." Admittedly, Mimi _is_ sort of cute—it's certainly not the worst nickname they could have derived from something like "Milla"—and when she thinks about it, honestly, Muzét is right. This is getting confusing and they really do need to think of some way to tell each other apart, so naturally, it only makes sense that she'd have to get used to being called a different name...

"Maxi."

Milla blinks as Sylph's voice cuts through her thoughts, then glances up at the wind spirit curiously. "Huh?"

Sylph puts his hands on his hips and turns his head, as if avoiding everyone else's gazes. "You know, Maxi. Like, short for the 'Maxwell' in Milla Maxwell? I've always sorta thought that had a nice ring to it, you know?"

Sylph bites his lip once the words are out, looking distinctly embarrassed that he even said it at all. Milla Maxwell hums for a moment before breaking into a grin.

"Maxi," she repeats, as if testing the name on her own tongue. "I like it. Not a bad nickname at all." She nods to Milla. "And this way, you can still be called Milla."

That's what does it, knowing that Milla Maxwell is willing to give up what she's been called her whole life for the sake of someone who they all only barely know. Milla Maxwell has been "Milla" to these people for far longer than Milla has, and she's not going to take that away from her.

"You have just as much right to the name 'Milla' as I do," Milla parrots back at her counterpart, her voice now firm with her decision. She's never had a nickname before, but she's sure it can't be too bad. "Mimi's fine."

"Alright then," Milla Maxwell proclaims, giving Milla an almost sly smile. "Mimi and Maxi it is."

Milla blinks. "...Huh?"

Wait, no, that wasn't the point—

"Ohhh, that sounds adorable!" Muzét squeals, hovering around and briefly tucking an arm around each Milla's neck. "I can _definitely_ get used to that."

"B-but I didn't mean..." Milla starts, but then thinks better of it and lets it slide, sighing in defeat. She's already decided she's fine with the nickname thing, and if Milla Maxwell wants to have a nickname of her own too, Milla supposes she can't stop her. "Alright. Sure."

Milla Maxwell beams before turning to Muzét as she floats between them. "By the way, Muzét, what was it you wanted me for?"

"Oh, that." Muzét slides out until she's floating in front of them again and grins. "The Four and I were about to start another round of tag with some of the lesser spirits. Since it looked like you weren't really doing anything, I was wondering if you might want to join us?"

Milla feels a slight pang that they didn't think to ask _her_ , but she can't really resent them when it makes sense. Milla Maxwell makes an actual effort to play with the lesser spirits whenever she can get the time, but Milla hasn't been able to make herself interact with any of them yet. Not when she's still such a spectacle—the Maxwell lookalike who showed up out of nowhere with no explanation, who is probably a glaring disappointment in comparison to the Maxwell they all already know and love.

Jude and the others showed her how much it hurt to be seen as the shadow of someone else. She doesn't particularly want to feel that way again.

"Sorry Muzét," Milla Maxwell says, shaking her head. "I'm afraid I'm actually rather busy right at the moment." As she turns to look Milla in the eye, though, Milla swears that she sees her prime counterpart's eyes _twinkle_. "But you can take Mimi."

"M-me?" Milla sputters. "I, umm... really don't know if I should—"

"The rules are simple," Milla Maxwell continues, as if Milla didn't say anything at all. "It's just like human tag, only to keep things fair for those who can't fly, nobody is allowed to float higher than a half-meter off the ground. Also, keep an eye on Muzét, since she often tends to cheat by teleporting away."

"Hey, I heard that!" Muzét cries, pouting. Milla Maxwell wasn't even trying to whisper, though, and Muzét isn't denying the accusation either.

Sylph immediately starts yanking on Milla's arm, tugging her forward and shouting, "Alright, she's been briefed, now come on!"

Milla, her feet dragging against the grass, stammers helplessly.

"They'll adore you," Milla Maxwell chimes from behind as the rest of the Four also help to drag Milla off, and the way her voice peaks with something that almost sounds like _amusement_ gives Milla the distinct feeling that she has been set up somehow. "Have fun, Mimi!"

Milla glares over her shoulder. "You're a jerk!" she calls back.

Maxi only smiles and waves.

* * *

"What's it like, being Maxwell?"

Milla asks it offhandedly after one of their meals, catching Maxi just as she stuffs the last of her bowls into the floating bubble of soap and water that Undine has set up with her power. It's just the two of them now; Maxi is always the last to finish eating, always the one who has at least three helpings no matter what the dish is, and Milla is always the one who stays behind to do the dishes (she doesn't mind, and it's actually really easy, since the bubble itself does most of the work and Milla no longer has to be afraid of anyone lashing out at her if she doesn't scrub the smell straight out).

Maxi cocks her head to the side and blinks. "What do you mean?"

"Like, the whole maintaining the cycle thing," Milla clarifies. "Is it... hard?" Sure, she knows all the technical jargon behind it—that Maxwell must oversee the reincarnation cycle and cleanse the spirits in the River of all their memories, but Milla doesn't have any concrete idea of what that actually entails. Maxi doesn't usually talk about her job, either, but Milla notices how the prime often retreats beneath a tree of her own, where she closes her eyes to presumably watch the River with her all-seeing gaze.

It hadn't looked particularly difficult first, and in fact, Milla almost mistook it for a form of relaxing meditation—but lately, she's started to notice the tiny furrow of Maxi's brow, and the slight clenching of her teeth, and the way Maxi looks almost _relieved_ whenever she comes out of that state. Spirits get born all the time here, new babies constantly popping up all over the realm, but before, Milla never really thought too hard about how much Maxi must have to work to make that happen.

"The task of overseeing the souls is simplistic in and of itself," Maxi answers, crossing her arms, "but it can be quite draining after some time. Why do you ask?"

"I mean, I was _never_ Maxwell, even if I thought I was." It took Milla a while to come to terms with that, but realizing that Maxi had been fed a lie from childhood meant being forced to realize that Milla had must have been fed the same lie in her dimension as well. "So I guess I never really understood the role at all."

She's somewhat ashamed of that, in retrospect. Of having boasted her false title of "Maxwell" so proudly for her entire life, despite having never truly understood the sheer _responsibility_ that came with it.

"I see," Maxi murmurs, uncrossing her arms, smiling slightly. "Then do you want to try overseeing the cycle with me?"

"Me?" Milla laughs. "I'm not _actually_ Maxwell, remember? I can't do anything."

"But you are still, in essence, _Milla Maxwell_." Maxi puts her chin in her palm, the smile never faltering. "And Milla Maxwell is perfectly capable of using Maxwell's power if it were to be bestowed upon her. Considering you have also taken spirit form, I'm sure it would be possible for me to lend you a portion of my power for a brief time."

Milla blinks once, twice, thrice. "...We could really do that?"

"We could try," Maxi declares. "Would you want to?"

Milla doesn't take long to think about it before hazarding a nod. Whatever it's actually like being Maxwell, after twenty-one years of believing the role was hers, she feels like she has a duty to herself to actually perform it at least once.

"I... I guess it wouldn't hurt."

Maxi's smile widens as Milla finishes wiping the last bowl and leaves it out with all the others to dry, and then she grabs her fractured counterpart by the hand to start quickly dragging Milla along. Maxi takes her to the shade beneath the nearest unoccupied tree, where they sit down side-by-side, hands still entwined.

"Close your eyes," Maxi commands, and soon after Milla does, something like a jolt of electricity seems to rush through her, starting from their clasped hands and racing up her arm, to her spine, to her every nerve, hot and strong and intense but also gone in a flash.

Once that feeling fades, another replaces it, and suddenly, even with her eyes closed, Milla can _see_. She can see the dark and long and flowing sea before her, sprinkled with the dim lights of what she instinctively _knows_ are the souls. Power rushes past her in a rolling stream, and the lights, the souls, within that stream pass through the gaps in her fingers—until suddenly she's _resonating_ with one of them, the presence passing through her very being, overwhelming her with sensation, then taking off to be instantly replaced by a different one.

She's like a conduit, Milla barely manages to realize through the sudden and sheer _speed_ with which they rush through her, their memories and personalities and lives overflowing her mind too fast to be comprehended before they're gone. The presences that rush out are cleansed, purified, ready to be born anew; the souls are being cycled within her, in and out, in and out, in out in out in out _in out in oh gods she can't do this—_

Her eyes fly open and the spell abruptly breaks, Milla gasping for breath and slumping over on her side until she's supporting herself with both hands on the ground. Her arms are still tingling with sensation, her body still feels hot with the phantom waves of rushing water, her head still reels with a splitting migraine—and although Milla knows she hasn't moved an inch from this very spot, she's panting like she's just run a marathon.

Fuck. "Draining" isn't the half of it. Milla feels exhausted to her very _soul_.

"It can be overwhelming at first," Maxi pipes up, grabbing Milla's shoulder to help steady her again. "It's just something you have to get used to."

"Y-you do that all the time?" Milla gasps, almost incredulous, because if _that_ is what Maxi has to deal with every time she enters that meditative state, it's unbelievable that she can still muster the energy to play with the other spirits afterwards. "All by yourself? How can you handle that?"

"Someone has to." Maxi just shrugs as if that's an actual answer, and Milla can only gape.

She can't understand how Maxi is like this. She can't understand how the two of them could have _ever_ once been the same person, and yet, Maxi is here, Maxi exists, and she is so _strong_ in all the ways Milla could only wish to be. Maxi has sacrificed so much of herself just to keep the world in balance, and she does so much of it all without any help.

But... that's all way too much for one person to have to bear alone.

"Again," Milla murmurs suddenly, renewed vigor racing through her veins as she meets Maxi's gaze. "Let me back in there. I just need to get used to it, right?"

Maxi goes wide-eyed. "Is that really okay?"

"You said it yourself. In essence, I am Milla Maxwell." Milla musters her most determined stare and snatches Maxi's hand again. "And this is what Maxwell has to do, right?"

Maxi blinks several times, clearly stunned, but then her lips curl into a smile again.

"Very well," Maxi says. "Close your eyes."

* * *

Muzét's whining is not an uncommon thing to hear around these parts, as Milla already discovered quite a while ago, so when a cry of "Oh noooo, she's doing it _again_!" comes from behind her, Milla automatically perches her hands on her hips and turns around.

"What's the matter, Muzét?"

"Oh, just look at her!" Muzét pouts, her finger pointing off into the distance, and Milla follows it until her gaze lands on where Maxi is standing in the middle of the field.

"She's... staring up at the sky?" Sounded normal enough in her head, but now that Milla says it aloud, she frowns, because that honestly does seem sort of weird. Sure, Maxi isn't exactly a floating pile of constant giggles like her sister, but it also isn't like her to get so wistful—or, hell, she almost looks _melancholic_.

"Yes, yes she is," Muzét moans. "And whenever she stares up at the sky like that, it always means she's thinking:"—Muzét crinkles her face into a stern frown, lowering her voice to what's probably supposed to be an imitation of Maxi's pitch—"'oh, golly gee, do I miss my humans'."

Maxi sounds _nothing_ like that, and Milla would laugh at the horrible impression if the mention of "her humans" didn't freeze her up so bad. Milla quickly shoves it aside, though; regardless of her own tumultuous feelings towards Maxi's human friends, she refuses to hold that against Maxi herself.

"You know," Muzét drawls slowly, a devilish grin creeping over her lips, "I have a little method of getting her to cheer up when she gets like this." She whirls on Milla, yellow eyes flaring with the promise of mischief. "Mimi, would you mind helping me out?"

She should say no, Milla decides almost immediately. This dimension's Muzét is not cruel (or, not anymore at least), but she _is_ a prankster with a wicked streak, and Milla has learned to be wary of her "little methods".

...But then again, Muzét is also the type of person who, if she can't drag you into being part of her mischief, will just make you a victim of it instead. And honestly, it _is_ disconcerting to see Maxi so down; Milla figures she's really got nothing to lose by trying to make her feel better.

"So what is this method exactly?"

Several minutes later, Milla tackles her prime counterpart from behind, wrapping her arms around Maxi's middle in what Milla assures herself is an attack and _not_ a hug, while Muzét simultaneously comes swooping in from the side to curl her arms tight around Maxi's neck. Maxi stumbles a bit on her feet and shoots an odd glance between the two of them, but otherwise doesn't react before simply sighing.

"I'm not in the mood for games, you two. Release me."

"Not until you stop moping around!" Muzét insists, snuggling up closer to Maxi and rubbing her face up against Maxi's cheek. Milla flushes a bit at the undeniable intimacy of the action, but even so, her own grip around Maxi's waist does not falter. Milla's only job is to not let Maxi go; Muzét said she would take care of the rest.

"Muzét," Maxi starts, "I do not believe I was mopi—"

"Don't lie to me! Big sisters know when you're lying." Muzét pulls back, locking gazes with Milla and grinning devilishly before running a finger along Maxi's earlobe.

Milla nearly jumps out of her skin when Maxi actually _yelps_.

"No!" Maxi gasps, her own hands instantly coming up in a futile attempt to bat Muzét's away, her usually deep and composed voice peaking a whole pitch with what Milla could swear is _laughter_. "Muzét, stop this! _Stop_!"

...Holy shit. Maxi's ears are ticklish.

Milla files a mental note of that interesting piece of information, then ruthlessly tightens her own grasp around the other's squirming torso, preventing escape by yanking Maxi close and burying her own smile into their victim's shoulder.

"Fine, fine!" Maxi finally yells, after a minute of breathless laughter and useless resistance. "I surrender!"

Muzét, apparently satisfied with that, pulls her hands back, and Milla, in turn, loosens her grip. Maxi actually _slumps_ a little in her grasp, going slack and falling back against Milla for support, before finally regaining her strength and abruptly twisting right out of Milla's hold, hands flying up to cover her ears protectively.

"There. I am no longer 'moping'," Maxi huffs, despite how there's a clear pout on her face (Milla doesn't think she's never seen Maxi look so much like a _child_ ). "Are you both happy now?"

"Only barely," Muzét sighs, floating over to tap Maxi on the nose. "Tell you what. How about you write Jude and the others a letter, and next time I go shopping down in the human realm, I'll make sure to deliver it to them."

Maxi blinks, clearly surprised, as if the idea had never occurred to her. Or maybe it just never occurred to her that her lazy and flighty and selfish older sister would be _willing_ to do something like that for her. Either or.

"That... would be wonderful." Whatever annoyance was in Maxi's face melts completely away in lieu of a soft grin. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

Muzét beams, reveling in the praise, before turning to Milla. "And while we're at it, Mimi could write a letter to Elle, and I could deliver that too!"

At that, Milla abruptly freezes up, her heart sinking like an anchor.

"...What?" Milla croaks out, her voice sounding weak to her own ears. "N-no, no way. I mean, she... Elle doesn't know I'm alive, right?"

Muzét frowns. "Well no, not yet—"

"Not _ever_!" Milla gasps. "You can't tell her. You _can't_."

Maxi furrows her brow. "Why not? I'm sure she would love to know you're here."

"No, you don't get it!" Milla cries, shaking her head vigorously. "Your friends _know_ you're up here, but Elle believes I'm dead. If I sent a letter, she probably wouldn't even believe it was from me"—because Muzét is a prankster with a wicked streak and Elle would be _hurt_ by such a cruel joke even if it wasn't actually a joke—"a-and even if she did, I'm a spirit now and we wouldn't be able to see each other"—because Muzét is the _only_ being in the entire world who can travel between the human and spirit realms at will—"so for all intents and purposes, I might as well be dead to her anyway."

Muzét and Maxi are giving her _looks_ now, gazes that hold sadness and sympathy and what she could almost swear is a slight sense of _disapproval_ , and Milla swears her heart stops for a single, horrifying moment. She had only just started to feel like she was okay here, like she was safe, like she could live around these people and not feel haunted by the past—and now, they're rubbing each other the wrong way all over again.

Milla doesn't need their pity, and she can't let them ruin whatever it is that she's finally managed to gain here.

"I might as well be dead to her anyway," Milla repeats firmly, gazing them both straight in the eyes to prove she _means this_. "Let her keep believing it. Let _all those humans_ keep believing it"—because the thought of Jude or Leia or Gaius or any of the others knowing about her suddenly makes Milla sick to her stomach—"and it will be better for _everyone_."

Milla stares both sisters down, refusing to let them go without getting her point across—and finally, Muzét sighs, putting her chin in her palms.

"Okay," she relents. "If you really don't want me to, I won't tell any of them anything."

It's still hard to tell what Muzét's thinking at any given moment, but for what it's worth, she looks like she means it. Milla lets out a breath of relief along with murmured thanks, then locks gazes with Maxi, who doesn't say anything. That is, before she pounces on Milla and yanks her into an embrace.

"H-hey!" Milla sputters. "What're you—?!"

"Payback." Maxi cuts her off, tightening her arms around Milla's torso. "Now hold still. You seem like you could use some cuddling." Milla flushes hot, both at Maxi's unashamed use of the word "cuddling" and the cuddling itself, but doesn't protest.

She knows this is Maxi's way of letting Milla have what she wants.

* * *

Nine years after Muzét starts playing courier between Maxi and her humans, Maxi finally decides it's okay for her to go back down to the human realm.

Milla can scarcely even believe it's already been that long. It certainly doesn't show on her—physically, she looks no older than she did when she was twenty-one—and with no day-night cycle, no need to sleep, and what feels like all the time in the world to spend cooking and reading and playing with the other spirits, it's all too easy to lose track of the days, months, years. But the letters from the human realm help to keep Maxi updated on the passage of time and the goings-ons in the human realm, and in turn, Maxi keeps the other great spirits updated with whatever information she thinks is pertinent.

This decision, Maxi asserts, is incredibly pertinent.

As Maxi explains it, she reached the conclusion with Jude after a great deal of discussion and hard work on both their ends. Of course, Maxi has been giving her all to facilitating the birth of new spirits, and Milla has even helped her out whenever she could. Meanwhile, Jude's spyrite research has evidently been steadily improving, to the point that Maxi judges the mana situation to be well under control. It should be perfectly safe, she concludes, for Maxi to be summoned back downstairs again.

The whole speech almost sounds like a justification, honestly. Almost like Maxi's asking for their _permission_ , which is ridiculous, because they all know that Maxi can do whatever she wants and none of them would be able to stop her. Not that any of them even want to, anyway: Efreet congratulates her while patting her back, and Gnome and Muzét each cheerfully rub up against either of Maxi's sides, and Undine practically sings with joy, and Sylph promises to make her hair extra wavy before she goes down to meet everyone.

But then Maxi turns towards Milla, their gazes locking as Maxi's eyes seem to search her face for a reaction—and Milla understands. More than anything, Maxi is asking for _her_ permission specifically, because as much as Maxi obviously loves her human friends, they all know Milla feels differently.

This isn't about her feelings, though. It's about Maxi's, and Milla doesn't think she's ever seen Maxi want _anything_ this bad before.

"Go," Milla commands her, smiling slightly to prove that yes, she really is okay with this. "And rue the day you let anyone stop you."

Maxi beams.

So it's settled. Maxi will go down to the human realm with Muzét's assistance, and while they're gone, Milla will temporarily act as Maxwell to keep the work load from piling up too much. She has gotten more able to command the cycle these days: with Maxwell's power partially bestowed to her, she can enter the River of Souls for prolonged periods of time by herself, without needing Maxi to hold her hand and help guide her through it. Of course, it's much _easier_ when Maxi's power is entwined with hers, helping her filter the souls through—this is of course Maxi's job in the end, and Milla can only help the show, not run it—but this way, Milla can at least relieve some of Maxi's burden.

The Four are meant to be faithful aides to the one who specifically acts as Maxwell, meaning their job is to stay in the spirit realm with Milla and look after her. So once Maxi and Muzét take their leave with an explosion of dark energy, Maxi having bid them goodbye with the most childishly gleeful expression Milla has ever seen on her face, the Four come trailing after Milla as she sits herself beneath a tree, closes her eyes, and wills herself to enter the River.

Her first time coming out of that meditative state, her skin burns and she sputters for breath, at which point Undine floats a bubble of water to her lips and Sylph calls upon cooling, calming breezes to refresh her before she dives back in. When she's actually back in the River, Gnome keeps the ground comfortable to sit on, and during her next break, he provides her with juicy, refreshing fruits that she gratefully bites into. At one point, Efreet tries to cook for them all, because Milla's too tired to do it herself—but ends up completely burning the meat to blackened coal.

Everyone looks at Milla nervously, as if expecting her to be irritated—but instead, Milla, too exhausted and too out of it to care, ends up giggling wildly until her stomach hurts. She happily accepts Efreet's backup plan of a warm, relaxing backrub instead.

Milla is so focused on working that she barely even realizes it when Maxi and Muzét poof back into existence, but the elder's familiar giggling eventually draws her out of her trance. Once her eyes land on them, the very first thing Milla notices is the familiar lab coat that Maxi has draped over her shoulders, and Milla's mouth goes dry as a traitorous pang shoots through her. But then Muzét whispers something teasingly into Maxi's ear, and even though Maxi pushes her away, a grin splits her face and a hint of a pleased flush comes to her cheeks—and that's what gets Milla to relax again.

Maxi looks utterly _satiated_ , and in the end, that's all that matters.

* * *

When Maxi and Muzét poof back into existence after their fifth excursion to the human world, Maxi has a vaguely familiar cap perched on her head.

"Had a good time?" Milla asks dryly once she recovers from being startled out of her trance. She casually points at the hat, prompting Maxi to flush pink and Muzét to giggle knowingly, and Milla rolls her eyes. Figures Maxi would bring home yet another trophy of conquest.

"Quite," Maxi murmurs, and doesn't even bother trying to stop Muzét when she snatches the cap up and puts it on her own head, zipping off towards the nearest group of lesser spirits. Muzét laughs and fakes jutting a microphone out towards them, the action oddly imitative of a certain reporter who Milla would prefer not to think about for too long. So Milla doesn't think and instead turns back to Maxi.

"You can take over now," Milla breathes, slumping back in an exhausted heap against the tree trunk. No matter how good she's become at maintaining the cycle these days, it still takes a lot out of her.

Maxi nods, but when she sits down beside Milla, the look on her face is schooled and serious.

"...Mimi," Maxi voices after a moment, "have you ever considered joining us down there?"

Milla instantly balks at the thought, her face scrunching up in distaste. Sure, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't briefly entertained the notion once or twice, but as much as she's glad for Maxi being able to see her friends again, Milla doesn't see any point in going down there herself. Jude and the others weren't bad people so much as they were normal people faced with an incredibly bad situation, but regardless, they still _hurt her_ , plain and simple. Whatever sense of happiness or home Milla might have once scrounged up for herself down there, she much prefers what she has now.

Milla has definitely found something up here, in this place where the spirits around her have come to accept her as a normal part of their lives. As someone who's like a twin sister to their Lord, if twin sisters came from other dimensions and popped on into your life unexpectedly when you were twenty-one. As someone who plays a mean game of checkers and kicks ass at soccer and cooks all sorts of food that nobody needs but everybody likes.

As _someone_. Not a figurehead to be worshiped, nor a false shadow of someone else. Just herself.

Milla has no qualms with these spirits. She will always despise Origin's Trial, and she will never be able to view the sacrifice of countless fractured dimensions as an acceptable act, and even knowing perfectly well the circumstances of the people she never wants to see again, she cannot forgive how they robbed her of her sister, her home, her identity, _everything_. But no matter her beef with the prime dimension as a whole, she has no qualms with these spirits. Not when they make her feel so safe.

In the human realm, Milla was most definitely _not safe_.

"No," Milla replies firmly, looking Maxi straight in the eye. "I know those people are your friends, but they are _not_ mine. They made that very clear."

Maxi shoots Milla a sympathetic look, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I know," Maxi says, and Milla doesn't doubt that she _does_. "And I won't ask you to get along with them."

That's always nice to hear, at least. Milla has never stopped Maxi from visiting her friends, and in turn, Maxi has never asked Milla to change her mind about those very friends. But Maxi apparently still has more to say, and she pulls out what looks like a slip of paper—a _photograph_ , actually—from behind her back before gently placing it in Milla's hands.

Maxi asks, "But what about Elle?"

Milla's breath catches in her throat as the image of the girl—no, here she's fully a grown woman—instantly monopolizes her vision. Her immediate thought is that Elle is _beautiful_ as a grown-up: her hair cascades down the sides of her head in long pigtails, and her cheeks have lost the baby fat, and her grin is wide, toothy, bright. Milla thinks she can see the hints of _Ludger_ in her, too: in the familiar suspenders, and in the twin guns holstered at her sides, and in the crinkle of her eyes as she rests one hand casually on her hip and flashes a peace sign with the other.

She looks free, mature, _unburdened_ , despite all the shit her journey with Ludger put her through as a child.

Milla bites her lip. She can't stop staring.

"You could see her now, if you wanted," Maxi continues. "With the mana situation under control, you could materialize in the real world just as I can. You could show her that you're alive."

Milla _could_ , yes. She totally could now, and that's really the only reason Milla even entertained the notion of going down there at all in the first place. Elle has been the only reason since the moment Milla met her—the only reason Milla survived her dimension's destruction, the only reason Milla went as far as she did with Ludger's party, the only reason Milla was willing to let go of Ludger's hand herself. But even so...

"I... I can't." Milla purses her lips; the words somehow feel weaker than she thought they would. "It's been ages and she's thought I was dead this entire time." Admittedly, that's her own fault, the result of her own merciless insistence on keeping her revival a secret from everyone down there. But whenever Milla thought about the consequences of going back, she told herself over and over again that it was for the best she didn't. After all, what had Milla really been to Elle, other than some woman who cooked food for her in between their childish arguments? "It's too late. She has to have moved on by now. Me seeing her again after all this time would just mess everything back up."

Maxi seems to consider this for a moment, pressing her lips together and going silent. But she doesn't leave, which means she's not done talking, and Milla watches her carefully until she finally speaks again.

"She still won't call me by your name, you know."

Milla blinks. "Come again?"

Maxi leans back, supporting herself on her hands in the grass, head tilting up as she stares at the branches of leaves above them. "When I first met Elle after your death, she swore to me that she would never call me by your name. To this day, she never has."

Milla furrows her brow but says nothing.

"She actually has an impressively wide assortment of nicknames which she uses instead," Maxi continues, a soft smile curling her lips. "'Food Vacuum', 'Grass Hair', 'Lord of Whatever', 'Super Knockers'. Sometimes she doesn't even bother and just addresses me as 'Hey you'. If she's feeling nice, I might get a 'Miss Maxwell' out of her. But she has never called me Milla."

Milla winces. Whatever grievances she'd held against Ludger's group, at the very least, they all still did her the courtesy of calling her by her own name. "I'm sorry."

Maxi shakes her head. "I take no offense. We do actually get along well enough. It's simply clear she hasn't forgotten you."

Milla chuckles humorlessly. "Elle really thought like that? This whole time?" This whole time, Milla had been trying her best to forget Elle, trying to assure herself that Elle would come to forget her, too. Looking back now, maybe Milla was foolish to believe that. Or... maybe she hadn't really believed it at all.

Milla scoffs at herself, laying her forehead in her palm. In the end, was she just making excuses this whole time?

"There was once a time when you were willing to give up all of what little you had left for that girl's sake." Maxi squeezes Milla's shoulder, and Milla looks back up to see compassion glimmering in the other's gaze. "She cannot easily forget that. She cannot easily forget _you_."

"...W-what about the cycle?" Milla asks finally, after a minute of gaping like a fish. It's the last excuse she can think of, and she's not even sure if she's bringing it up because she's still desperately resisting, or because she _wants_ Maxi to knock what's left of her resistance down entirely.

"The cycle is robust enough to handle itself for a while. It's done it before." Maxi reaches up to cup Milla's face, gently thumbs at her cheek. "It's your choice in the end. I only ask that you consider it a little more. For Elle's sake, if nothing else."

Maxi holds Milla's gaze for a long time, pink eyes refusing to let her go, before Maxi herself breaks the stare by nodding briefly and pulling away. Upon getting up, Maxi breaks into a run towards Muzét, who's evidently still playing reporter with every confounded lesser spirit she comes across. Maxi swiftly approaches her sister from behind and snatches the cap back, but rather than immediately place the hat back on her own head, Maxi instead closes her eyes and brings it to her lips. She clenches the fabric against her mouth, almost as if kissing it, and Milla recognizes the action—Maxi occasionally does the same thing with the lab coat she got eight months back.

Maxi really missed those humans this last near-decade. So much so that something as simple as just holding one of their possessions in her hands is now enough to make her whole being _shine_. And when Milla finally manages to turn away from the hypnotizing glow that is an elated Maxi, her gaze can't help but turn back to the photo of Elle.

And she stares, and she stares, and she stares.

* * *

Milla is still sitting beneath her tree when Muzét starts preparing for the warp between relams, and although Maxi shoots her a _look_ from across the field, Milla responds to the wordless question with a simple shake of her head.

No, she won't be going with them.

Maxi frowns slightly but nods in a gesture of understanding, and Milla sighs as she waves her goodbye. Indecision still churns within her stomach, but Milla does her best to ignore it; after all, there's always next time. There will always be another chance, and who knows, maybe in another couple months she'll have gathered enough courage to go down there. Just not yet, not right now.

Right now, Milla's too scared.

She's scared of how upset Elle will be once she realizes that Milla was alive this whole time but never tried to tell her. She's scared of how a decade might have changed Elle, might have turned her into a completely different person than the little girl Milla so treasured. She's scared of how much of a _disappointment_ she might become in Elle's eyes, because Milla isn't the same person she was ten years ago either, and in some ways, she thinks she's become even more of a coward than before.

When she was traveling with them, Ludger and Elle were the only people who _didn't_ constantly make Milla feel like a huge disappointment. With Ludger now gone, Milla doesn't think she could handle losing Elle's respect, too.

"Mimi, are you feeling okay?" Undine pipes up from behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder. Milla turns to see the Four all floating in wait at her back, their concerned expressions indicating they've noticed her troubled state.

Efreet crosses his arms. "Don't push yourself if you're not feeling well. The cycle can wait."

"No, I'm fine," Milla assures, shaking her head. "It's not a problem." Her current mood will cease to matter once she takes the dive into the River, and anyway, she knows the Four will be there for her in case anything happens. They've got her back.

Milla glances back towards Maxi and Muzét, who are now holding hands with each other, clearly about to make the leap—and suddenly, like an echo, the words come rushing back to her as a whirring buzz in her head.

_They've got my back..._

"W-wait!"

The cry rings in Milla's ears, but she doesn't even register that it came out her own mouth until she notices Maxi and Muzét both staring at her, having apparently abandoned their inter-realm jump. Milla flushes under their scrutiny; honestly, she had no intention of letting that slip... but now that it's out, she doesn't want to take it back. Before she can chicken out, Milla forces herself to her feet and dashes over to Maxi and Muzét as fast as she can, panting for breath once she reaches them.

"I... I want to come with you," Milla states with as much determination as she can muster, because Elle isn't the only person who respects her anymore and fear has ruled Milla's life for far too long. "Please."

Maxi and Muzét blink at her, faces almost identical in their surprise, until finally, they both settle on soft smiles.

"What made you change your mind?" Maxi asks, and Milla doesn't even bother pondering her response, because there's really only one way she can answer that.

"Impulse."

Milla smirks when that makes Maxi dissolve into chuckles.

"In that case, we're coming too," Efreet chimes in, making Milla jump in her skin. He's gotten right behind Milla somehow—for such a big guy, he's ridiculously good at sneaking up on people—and when Milla turns back to look at him, the others also peek at her from over his large shoulder, Undine shooting her a motherly smile while Gnome jump-spins on his globe and Sylph flashes her a peace sign.

"Of course," Milla agrees.

"You should be prepared for the humans' potential reactions, though," Maxi pipes up, and when Milla whirls back around, the other's expression has turned serious. "They're not expecting you."

Oh, Milla knows. There will be confusion, definitely, and seeing them all again will be unpleasant at the very least. But Milla's not about to back down. She reaches for Maxi's other hand and squeezes it tight.

"I'm prepared," Milla says. "Now let's go before I change my mind again."

Maxi smiles. Muzét giggles, "That's my cue, I take it?" and, without even waiting for a response, snaps her fingers.

The next thing Milla knows, the world is a sea of black and wind is rushing harshly past her, sending her reeling, like she's spinning around on that playground roundabout Elle once made her try out except a thousand times faster. Dizziness kicks in alongside a strange tingle that shoots through her body, and everything is an unforgiving dark until suddenly it's _not_ , her vision abruptly filling with blindingly bright light.

Finally, when the light dies down and Milla's eyes can adjust again, a line of human faces blink back at her.

Milla knew these people would have changed in a decade, but it still manages to surprise her how they seem both familiar and not. Alvin has lost that horrendous beard and Rowen evidently lost some hair up top but she recognizes them instantly; Jude and Leia take her a moment, the former having grown his hair past his chin, the latter having shaved hers into a pixie cut beneath her cap; Elize barely even _resembles_ the girl from Milla's memory, now tall and and busty and sporting dyed, neon-pink hair that reaches down to her knees.

The common factor among them is the clear shock in all their faces: their eyes are wide as they stare between the two Millas, and although their mouths are agape, no words are coming out of any of them. Milla fidgets in anticipation—right now it's shock, but give it time and it'll turn to confusion, and then it'll shift into realization and then after that Milla isn't actually sure _what_ she'll see in their faces but she's suddenly very scared to find out.

Before she can stop herself, Milla takes a step behind Maxi, as if shielding herself from all their gazes. She can't help it; they're making her remember all those memories she'd rather forget, making her remember the way they all used to look at her before. Like they were expecting something that she could never give. This trip is quickly becoming everything she feared it would be—her throat is closing up and her eyes are trailing down to the ground as timidity bitterly resurfaces, because Milla _knew_ she wouldn't be able to react well upon seeing these people again and oh, _gods_ , she really never should have come down here at all—

" _Milla_?!"

The voice that finally shatters the tense silence is instantly recognizable—even after almost a decade, somehow, Milla _knows_ that voice without a doubt—and she jerks her gaze back up to see Elle dashing up to the rest of them from behind a nearby rock formation. Elle ruthlessly presses forward, even shoving her way past Leia and Elize, until she's right there, standing in front of Milla, staring her straight in the face. Milla bites her lip as she looks the other over. She already knew what to expect from the photo, but it still strikes her seeing it in person: Elle is all grown up, Elle is _here_ , and everything from her tensed shoulders to her breathless gasps to the sheer disbelief etched in every inch of her face overwhelms Milla with the sense that this is really happening.

A gentle squeeze of her hand snaps Milla out of it, and when she glances over to see Maxi give her an assuring nod, her previously frantic heartbeat finally starts to temper out. Another hand rests steady on her shoulder as Muzét smiles down at her without a hint of the usual mischief or masks, and when the Four's voices all start ringing in her head, cheering her on, Milla dislodges both sisters' hands from her person, stepping forward to face Elle head on.

"Hi, Elle," Milla says, for lack of anything better, still a hint shy.

"You..." Elle looks Milla up and down carefully, as if searching for evidence that the woman before her is some kind of illusion or trick. As if she expects Milla to just disappear any second now. "N-no, you... you can't be..."

Elle apparently doesn't know what to say any more than Milla does—and somehow, that's actually a relief. Milla lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and for a while, they simply stare at each other, letting soft silence wash over them—

"Yes, that is _your_ Milla," Maxi pipes up, abruptly jarring Milla out of the moment. "The one without the grass hair, although 'Super Knockers' may very well still apply as an appropriate moniker."

Milla frowns, heat rushing to her cheeks from the comment—Maxi is so _bad_ at reading the mood—and in retaliation, reaches back to flick her finger over the other's ear. Maxi squawks, her own hand immediately shooting up to swat Milla away as she swiftly takes several steps back.

"You know, that really comes in handy," Milla chimes, grinning impishly at her counterpart. Maxi pouts.

Milla giggles as she turns towards Elle again (the other humans standing behind her all look distinctly _flabbergasted_ at Maxi's display, but that doesn't matter right now), then fidgets a little when she sees Elle purse her lips. She's still gazing intently at Milla, but whatever look is in those blue eyes is now entirely unfamiliar to Milla; as Elle is now much more mature, so too is she harder to read. Milla goes very still as she mentally prepares herself for the worst: maybe Elle's mad that Milla didn't tell her that she was alive, or maybe Elle's disappointed that Milla clearly isn't the same person she used to be, or maybe Elle's—

Elle moves so fast Milla can't even register it at first, the girl's form becoming a blur of color in her vision. The next thing Milla knows, arms are flinging around her neck, wrapping tight, tugging her close, and Milla can only gape in surprise as she feels Elle's whole body tremble against her.

"It's you," Elle gasps, burying her face in Milla's neck, her lips brushing over a heightened pulse. Milla can feel Elle's nose sliding wet over her skin, she can feel the other's tears seeping into the collar of her dress, and Milla quickly blinks when she feels something start to pool in the corners of her own eyes. "You're here, you're alive you're alive you're _alive_..."

It sounds almost like a mantra, Elle desperately repeating the words over and over and over again, as if she's trying to somehow make up for all the time she's missed. Milla instantly regrets having taken so long just to tell her the truth, and a frantic "Sorry" quickly makes its way to the tip of her tongue... but ultimately, it dies there. Milla will apologize later, definitely, because she has _a lot_ to make up for—but for now, Elle is warm and soft against her, and there's no need to ruin it just yet.

It's funny. Even after years of being subjected to the fervent glomps of two sisters with a shared sense of _no personal space_ , now that it's Elle clutching onto her, Milla suddenly can't remember how to handle hugs. She doesn't know where to put her hands or if she should even put them anywhere, because being hugged is one thing but reciprocating it is another, and she can't be sure yet what exactly Elle wants from her. Milla glances up to shoot Maxi a helplessly uncertain look, but her counterpart only grins and turns away, running over to Jude and Leia to instantly sling an arm around each of their necks.

To hell with it then.

"Yeah," Milla murmurs, and eagerly brings her own arms up to pat Elle's back and squeeze her even closer. "I'm alive."

**Author's Note:**

> THE GORGEOUS ART by [MISCHIEVOUSART](http://mischievousart.tumblr.com/):  
>   
> & the rest of this endnote is p much just a huge dump of technical lore/information on how the fic is written so if you don't care about that you can ignore this and move on with your life  
> \-- just getting this out of the way right now up front so we're all on the same page here: fuck you tox2. i enjoyed tox2, don't get me wrong, but fuck tox2.  
> \-- no but seriously a lot of xillia's worldbuilding in both games honestly escapes me most the time so //shrug// i kinda just winged it when it came to lore, sorry if i got anything blatantly wrong  
> \-- honestly imo the most “canon” and in-character option for ludger is probably letting go of mimi's hand but mimi deserves better than that so fuck it  
> \-- “you think her last words to ludger were a soup ingredient?” WELL THE GAME DIDN'T GIVE ME ANYTHING BETTER TO WORK WITH. AGAIN, FUCK YOU TOX2.  
> \-- also that whole maxi being able to see everything mimi did in the prime dimension is not something i just made up if you were thinking it was. look up the “milla's life” skit and choose r1.  
> \-- maxi having mega-ticklish ears is a headcanon that goes way way waaayyyyyy back with me. it honestly has no canon basis i just think it's adorable. (in case you were wondering, no, mimi does not share this particular trait with her prime self. unlike maxi, she essentially grew out of being ticklish.)  
> \-- i unfortunately discovered later on that elle actually did canonically call maxi “milla” in the jp version of the game, but goddammit im an english-only speaking shithead who hates that idea, so since it wasn't in the western version im just gonna blatantly ignore it. fuck you tox2.
> 
> thank you very much for reading!!!


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